


No Second Guesses or Secret Signs

by angelsaves



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bro-boning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a fellow needs to feel grounded, at home in his own skin. Natasha has a suggestion for how Steve can do that. (The suggestion is sex.) Unbetaed porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Second Guesses or Secret Signs

"What do you do?" Steve asks. "When you're feeling --" He waves one hand expressively. "Detached."

"Different things," Natasha tells him. She sips her beer and looks at him over the rim of the glass. "Sex is a good one."

He laughs a little. "That's not really --"

"Come on. I know people had sex in the 1940s."

"Oh, I'm sure they did," Steve says. "Just not with me."

"I saw the exhibit. Were you saving yourself for Peggy?"

Steve shrugs, all those sculpted muscles moving under his T-shirt. "There was never time," he says.

Natasha makes a show of looking at her watch. "There's time now."

"Are you offering?" He looks stunned. It's a good look on him.

"Yes," she says.

"Why?"

"I like you. And you seem like you could use it."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Steve says, starting to smile. "Would you like to come back to my apartment?"

"I would," she says, and smiles back at him.

***

Steve's studio apartment is small, but it has a back exit and a nice view, which Natasha takes in as he carefully locks the front door behind them.

"I, uh," he says, tucking his hands in the pockets of his khakis. "I don't really know what to do now."

"I know people kissed in the 1940s," Natasha says. "Did they do that with you?"

"Once in a while," Steve says, and takes a step closer to her, not quite into her space.

She takes that as an invitation and closes the space between them, rising up onto her toes to kiss him. He kisses back with enthusiasm, and more skill than she expects, one of those big hands coming up to rest on the small of her back like they're dancing. When she breaks it off, she's breathing a little quickly.

"How was that?" he asks.

"Not bad," Natasha says. "Let's take it to the bed." She plants a hand in the middle of his chest -- his pecs really are fantastic -- and pushes gently in that direction.

Obediently, Steve walks backwards until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up at her, and isn't that a picture? She straddles his legs and kisses him again. At first, she balances above him, not wanting to scare him off; then she eases a little more of her weight down onto his thighs until --

"Oh," Steve says, and tries to pull back.

"Not the first hard-on I've felt," Natasha says, and grinds down against it to illustrate her point.

"You don't -- oh -- mind?"

"It's kind of the point. Do you like it?" She's pretty sure he does, but she also wants to hear it from him.

"I do," he says. "Do you?"

Natasha laughs. "Yes," she says. "How do you feel about taking off some clothes?"

"I like that idea." He starts to unbutton his shirt, and she leans back a little to watch as he reveals a V of -- undershirt. Of course. He has layers. She smiles to herself, considering how many of her own to peel off, and decides to step things up a little. 

"Me too," she says, and pulls her shirt and bra over her head in one motion.

"Oh," Steve says again, fingers faltering on his buttons. It's flattering.

"Tell me you've seen a naked woman before." Natasha untucks his shirt for him, finishes unbuttoning it, and pushes it off his shoulders.

"I spent a lot of time in art museums as a kid," he offers. "This is better."

Natasha kisses him again for that, soundly on the mouth, then trailing down his throat to the neck of his undershirt. "Take this off."

"Yes, ma'am," he says quickly, and strips it off. 

"That's more like it." This time Steve's the one to lean in first, pressing his mouth to hers. A quick learner; she likes that. She scrapes her nails lightly down his chest, and he moans into her mouth; she likes that, too. "Now, how do you feel about pants?"

"Overrated, but I don't know how to get them off without --" He breaks off with a sad little sound when Natasha climbs off him and stands up.

"You won't regret it," she reassures him, undoing her fly and letting her pants hit the floor. "Now you."

Steve's out of his khakis and boxers before she can blink, and -- well. Either his serum affected everything, or he was always blessed; either way, Natasha's not going to complain. He sits back down and leans back, putting his weight on his hands, and grins at her. "Well?"

"Well," Natasha agrees. Well, well, well.

She expects him to be sweet, and he is; she expects him to be shy, and he's not that at all, exploring her body with the same enthusiasm he brought to kissing, and to trying different beers earlier in the evening. 

"Can I --?" he asks, stroking one hand down her thigh.

"Use your words."

"I want to taste you." His cheeks are flushed, and that mouth -- 

"Go for it," she says. "I'll talk you thr -- oh --" He doesn't need very much direction, it turns out, just a little encouragement in the right direction. Natasha digs her heels into his back and grinds up into his face, urging him on, and when she comes, he looks like she's given him a present.

"So that was good?" 

"You're sure this was your first time?"

Steve grins. "Not my last, I hope."

"Not if I'm lucky," Natasha says. "Now if you roll over --"

He goes easily; she reaches off the bed to fish the condom out of her pants pocket. "I know what a rubber is," he tells her quickly.

"Good," she says; she opens it, rolls it on, and slides down onto him.

"Oh," he says, and "oh," and Natasha smiles.

"You like it?" she asks.

"Yes," he says. The earnestness almost undoes her again; she leans down to kiss him, and he surges up to meet her, changing the angle and making her gasp. His eyes close, eyelashes long and graceful on his cheeks, and Natasha thinks she's done something good.

When it's over, Steve lies on his side and traces one finger along the rise and fall of her side. "I'd like to draw you, sometime," he says, then, "-- I mean, you don't have to be naked, if you don't want --"

She laughs, and says, "Maybe."

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Here at the Right Time" by Josh Ritter, because Natasha is.


End file.
